Oh, Brother
by Pechora
Summary: One-shots of the Curtis brothers! Makes you feel warm on the inside. I take requests! STRICTLY NO SLASH
1. Tired

**This takes place after Ponyboy wakes up from the concussion he received towards the end of the Outsiders.**

* * *

 **Tired**

The day felt slow.

When I say slow, I mean it, like the air didn't want us to do anything.

Rays of sunlight streamed through the window in my room – mine and Soda's, that is. The blanket on top of me felt like a warm cocoon, and I was glad for the heat.

Because of this, it was no surprise to me that Soda and I fell asleep quickly, but before Soda and I could get to sleep, Darry came back in the room.

"We're out of mushroom soup-" he started, but stopped when he saw us close to sleep. He yawned involuntarily.

"You should get some sleep," I told him. "You ain't lookin' too good."

"Naw," he said. "I'm fine."

He hesitated.

"Scoot over," Darry said. Soda and I moved to opposite ends of the bed and Darry laid down in between us. I put my head on his chest and I saw Soda do the same. Darry held us close and we all fell asleep, just like that.

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 **I just love the Curtis brothers. I really do! Remember to request anything if you want me to write it! It could be in an AU, an additional story, or a rewrite of any part in the Outsiders – just ask.**

 **R &R!**


	2. Bike

**First of all, OH MY GOSH. WOW. THAT'S JUST...WOW! 3 reviews? IN AN HOUR OR LESS?! *faints***

 **Thanks so much to Amanda, FrankElza, mycookiegirl, panda182, and Pony'sgirlfriend for reviewing – your requests are currently being written. In the meantime, I thought I might throw out another chapter.**

 **This one's set when Darry, Soda, and Ponyboy were kids. Darry's twelve, Soda's eight-going-on-nine, and Ponyboy just turned six. It's told in third person because I'm pretty sure that something from the point of view of a six-year-old would be...uh...interesting, to say the least.**

* * *

Bike

"Happy Birthday!" Ponyboy's family exclaimed. They uncovered his eyes to reveal a hand-me-down bike with a white ribbon on it. Even though everyone knew that it had been Soda's until now, Ponyboy didn't care. His face broke out in a gigantic grin.

"A bike!" he yelled. He ran towards it and petted it. "Wow..." he breathed. All the while, the smile didn't disappear from his face.

"Look, Ponyboy," Soda said, coming forward. "It even has a basket for puttin' your stuff in. You could carry 'round your football while ridin' your bike!"

"Whoa!" Ponyboy said, rubbing his fingers over the rim of the basket.

"And here," Soda continued, pointing to a metal object on the handlebars. "This is your own bell!" He pushed a lever on the side of the bell and it rang. Ponyboy gasped.

"This is so cool!" he exclaimed. "Thank you, Soda!" Ponyboy hugged Soda tightly.

"Don't thank _me_ ," Soda laughed, "thank Darry! He's the one who got the basket and bell on there."

Ponyboy ran over to his oldest brother and threw his arms around him. "Thank you, Darry," he whispered.

Darry, shocked at first, stood there awkwardly before hugging him back. "You're welcome, Pony. Happy birthday."

Pony looked up at him. "Can I ride it? Please?"

"Sure," Soda said, "Darry and I'll teach ya! Won't we, Dare?"

"We sure will!" Darry smiled. Ponyboy ran back to the bike and swung his leg over the seat so that he could sit on his new bicycle.

"Is this how ya do it?" Pony asked, somewhat confused as to why he wasn't moving.

"That's half of it," Soda laughed. "You forgot 'bout the kickstand." He bent down and lifted the kickstand. Ponyboy would've fallen right there, but Darry held on to the handlebars.

"Now, Pony," Darry said seriously. "You could hurt yourself, so be careful. What you're going to do is keep pedaling, but don't forget to turn. Don't go too slow or too fast and you should be good. Ready, we'll be right behind you." Ponyboy nodded. "On three, ready? One...two..."

"THREE!" Sodapop pushed Ponyboy's back and the boy flew down the driveway.

"Sodapop!" Darry exclaimed.

"Sorry, Dare," Soda grinned. "I guess I don't know my own strength!"

Darry and Soda hurried after Ponyboy, who'd turned so that he was riding down the road. From a distance, he looked like a professional, but his brothers both knew that he had a good chance of falling. Sure enough, he hadn't gone further then twenty feet when he hit a bump in the road and went flying off of the bike.

"Pony!" Soda shouted. The brothers doubled their efforts to reach him, which didn't take long. Ponyboy sat up just as they reached him. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

"You alright, Ponyboy?" Darry asked, kneeling down beside his younger brother.

"Yeah," he said, but his lip quivered. "I'm okay."

"You're leg don't make it look that way," Soda told him. When Ponyboy fell, he must've scraped his knee. He had a pretty bad scuffmark that had started to bleed.

"Can you stand up?" Darry asked. Ponyboy, not trusting his voice, shook his head.

"I'll run and get some stuff," Soda said, turning and running back to the house.

"D-D-Darry?" Ponyboy asked.

Darry looked back at him. "Yeah, sport?"

"It h-hurts," he said, the tears starting to fall. "It...it really hurts."

"It's okay," Darry assured him. "It's just a scrape – you're gonna be fine."

"Yeah?" Ponyboy looked up at him.

Darry wiped a tear from his face. "Yeah. Just fine. Then, you can get up and keep goin'. You got further than Soda did on his first time."

"I did?" There were still tear tracks on his cheeks, but he'd stopped – at least for now.

"Yeah," Darry chuckled. "Soda didn't even make it to the street! He smacked his face into a pole before he could get there."

Ponyboy laughed. "Did he get hurt?"

"Naw," Darry said. "He got a bloody nose, but that was it. He was too dizzy to try again until the next week!"

Ponyboy laughed again, like there was nothing more hilarious in the world than his older brother smacking his face on metal. Darry smiled.

Soda came running back with a box – their first-aid kit. "You know how to use this?" Soda stopped when he saw Ponyboy laughing and Darry smiling. He frowned. "What's so funny?"

The look on Sodapop's face only made Ponyboy laugh harder. Darry even started to chuckle. Sodapop was thoroughly confused, but he handed Darry the box.

"Okay buddy," Darry said, "Settle down. Let's get you all patched up."

* * *

 ***FANGIRLING FANGIRLING FANGIRLING FANGIRLING FANGIRLING***

 **I love the brothers. So much.**

 **So much.**

 **Next up is a request – but I won't tell you which one! If you have any ideas and would like me to write them in, go ahead and review!**

 **R &R!**


	3. Bully - REQUEST!

**Before you keep reading, I do not pick favorites. The order of requested one-shots goes by the order in which they were submitted.**

 **First up, Pony'sgirlfriend's suggestion combined with panda182's request! I know they're different, but I thought that your ideas went really well together and I went out on a limb. Hope you like it!**

 **Ponyboy is 9. He gets bullied at school, has asthma, and is really short for his age. The others are canon age. This is told in third person. I think that when Ponyboy is ten or below, I will go in third person (unless a specific request asks otherwise).**

* * *

Bully

Ponyboy walked home alone everyday. Sodapop and Darry worked on the far side of town, and since the DX and Roofing Co. were on the same street and Soda and Darry finished work at around the same time, Ponyboy was usually left out. He wasn't happy about it either. Walks are when you really get to know people. It seemed like his brothers were leaving him out lately.

First, they'd wanted to go to the movies with their friends, but leave him home. Darry had made him do the dishes all by himself. On top of that, they'd gotten home late at night, and Dad would've let them off easy, though Mom would've whisper-shouted in an argument with him when she thought that Ponyboy was sleeping.

Then, they explained to Ponyboy that he was too young to be doing the stuff they were. Darry wouldn't let him get hair grease either. Apparently, he had to grow up.

He was plenty grown up! He'd gotten A's all year. In fact, the teachers at his school had been considering letting him skip a grade or two. Of course, he'd probably have no friends, but then again, it's not like he had very many friends now.

He kicked a rock angrily. Why did Soda have to spend so much time with Darry? Darry was too focused on his job to even talk to Pony, so why Soda? What made Soda better than him?

Ponyboy sighed angrily and looked up from the sidewalk. He could see the lot from where he was. His house was just past it – by about a block or two. He could afford to go the lot for a while, right? Yeah. He'd just blow off steam. Besides, their work ended in thirty minutes.

Not that he would have anything different to do in thirty minutes anyway.

Making up his mind, Ponyboy made a beeline for the lot and his favorite tree. It was the tallest and the hardest to climb, but he knew a short cut to get to the top. He didn't take off his backpack – he figured that he could get his homework done before he got home. Quickly, he reached the third branch, where he usually stopped, but for some reason, he felt like climbing higher. He finally stopped on the seventh branch – not quite as high as he _could_ go, but significantly higher than the third branch.

His chest felt tight and his throat felt like it was closing up. He hurriedly took off his backpack as his vision started to swim. He took out his inhaler and took a puff, holding his breath as he did so.

 _One...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...nine...ten._

He let out the breath and relaxed against the tree trunk. He looked up at the sky through the branches above him. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Slowly, his eyes closed, listening to the leaves in the tree and the

He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been asleep, but he woke when someone shouted from below him. "Well look who it is – it's Horse-Breath!"

Ponyboy tried to ignore the boy, but he knew who it was. Joey McAlister – second-grade bully of the year, and Joey didn't give up easily. He was a boy who seemed incapable of doing anything else but pick on kids. He just couldn't resist it.

Hopefully, he couldn't climb either.

There were laughs down below after Joey's last remark, and Ponyboy looked down. There seemed to be five of them, all looking up at Ponyboy.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Ponyboy asked, obviously annoyed.

"Nope!" Joey said cheerfully. "Luckily, my afternoon's all yours. Too bad I have to be home for dinner."

"This isn't your neighborhood, Joey," Pony warned. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I can be wherever I want," Joey snapped. "Now get down here so we can have some fun!" He kicked the old tree angrily. Ponyboy grabbed hold of the branch he was perched on as the tree shook. He wasn't able to save his bag, which plummeted towards the bullies.

Ponyboy cursed as it hit the ground. Joey snatched it up and rummaged through it. Before long, the bully had found Pony's medication bag.

"What's this?" he asked aloud, picking it up and showing it to everyone. Ponyboy's fists clenched.

"It's mine," he said, barely concealing his anger.

Joey grinned and looked from the bag to the boy in the tree. "Why don't you come and get it then?"

Ponyboy glared long and hard at Joey before swinging down like a monkey from branch to branch and landing with a _thud_ on the ground. Joey looked stunned and in awe, but he wiped the look off his face with a smirk. Ponyboy straightened and clenched his fists.

"Give me my bag," he ordered.

Joey and his friends laughed. "No," he said at last. He tossed it to a friend slightly behind Ponyboy, making him turn to look at them.

Bad move.

He left his jaw exposed and Joey predicted the move. His fist connected with Pony's jaw, sending him stumbling back into two of the bullies. Suddenly, they grabbed Ponyboy's arms and forced them behind his back. One of them kicked the backs of his knees, forcing him to kneel. Joey continued, unfazed by what was happening. "My older brother, Bob, taught me what to do, so don't worry. It won't be too painful."

Joey kicked Ponyboy in the gut and the boy hunched over, feeling nauseous. His head spun and he clenched his fists to the best of his ability. One of the boys behind him grabbed his hair and forced him to look up at the main bully.

Ponyboy grunted in pain. Joey smirked. "You're not going to tell on us, are you, Horse-Breath?"

The boy said nothing. Anger and slight fear passed through Joey's eyes. He punched Pony again on the cheekbone. Ponyboy became dizzy and he shook his head to clear his blurring vision. He felt his throat start to swell and he erupted into a coughing fit.

"What's going on with him?" one of the bullies asked aloud.

"He's having an asthma attack!" exclaimed another.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know!" Joey yelled impatiently. He dropped Ponyboy's bag on the ground and started to run. His friends took off after him, leaving Ponyboy gasping and wheezing, taking deep breaths to try to get enough air into his lungs as his throat slowly closed. The world started spinning like a tilted Merry-Go-Round. Ponyboy grabbed fistfuls of grass to prevent himself from falling over. If he could only reach his bag a few feet away...

No. He could barely concentrate on pumping air into his lungs. Then, his vision started to go dark.

 _Soda,_ he thought. _Darry. Help me._

 _Please!_

Then, nothing...

Ponyboy woke up amazed to find that he was breathing normally. He looked around quickly and realized that he was in his room, in his bed. Someone's arm was draped across him and they held him close. He realized that it was Sodapop from the smell of gasoline that he wore like constant cologne.

Darry sat in a dining chair with newspaper lying on his lap. He was asleep, but he didn't look like he was sleeping well.

"Darry," Ponyboy whispered. His eldest brother woke with a jolt, sending the newspaper fluttering to the floor. He noticed that Ponyboy was awake and smiled.

"Hey Pony," he said quietly. He moved and sat next to Ponyboy on the bed. "How are ya feelin'?"

Ponyboy shrugged slightly, not wanting to wake Sodapop. Little did he know that his sixteen-year-old brother was already awake.

"I'm okay," Ponyboy answered. "What happened?"

Darry frowned. "What do you remember?"

"Joey and his friends ganged up on me and I had an attack," Pony recalled. "I think I blacked out after that."

"Sodapop went out lookin' for you," Darry explained. "He found you in the lot and quickly gave you a puff of your inhaler. You almost died..." He trailed off, but he had tears in his eyes. He sighed and wiped his eyes. "You scared us real good, Pony. When I find those kids I'm gonna-"

"Don't hurt 'em," Ponyboy said sleepily. He couldn't think straight. He just wanted to fall asleep next to his big brothers.

Darry ran a hand through Ponyboy's hair. "Why's that, Pony? Are you feelin' alright?"

"Yeah," Ponyboy said, yawning. "I'm fine – just tired." He started slurring his words together. "Unceh Johnny said that fightin's no good unless you got somethin' worth fightin' for."

" _Uncle,_ Johnny?" Darry clarified, slightly baffled at the youngest brother's choice of words.

Ponyboy didn't respond, he just snuggled closer to Sodapop, who was looking at Darry with a question in his eyes.

"You should get some sleep," Pony said quietly. "You look tired."

"Alright, I'll do that," Darry replied. He turned and started walking out of the room when Ponyboy added one more thing before he fell asleep.

"Goodnight Daddy," he mumbled in his delirium. Darry froze and whipped back around, but Ponyboy was already sleeping. Sodapop's eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly. He frowned and mouthed a silent: _What?!_

Darry hesitated before walking back to Ponyboy and giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, sport."

Darry started to walk out. "Don't I get a kiss too?" Sodapop asked jokingly.

Darry snorted. "Quiet, you're gonna wake him." Nevertheless, Darry crossed over to the other side of the bed and gave a kiss on the head to Sodapop. "Now go to bed. It's almost midnight."

Sodapop smirked. "Goodnight Darry."

"Goodnight Soda."

And with that, Darry turned the lights off, but the boys were already sound asleep.

* * *

 **This was fun to write. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it! Keep those suggestions coming!**

 **R &R!**


	4. Return - REQUEST! ISH!

**ANOTHER REQUEST!**

 **Yeah, I was planning to do my story, then a request, and then just keep rotating in that cycle, but a review/request just happened to coincide with a story I was already going to do. Amanda! Your War request has been granted.**

Return

A man in his early thirties drove into Tulsa, Oklahoma in his dark green Jeep Wrangler. It was the first time he'd returned in fifteen years, and the only reason he came back was because he couldn't stay.

He was dressed in a camouflage uniform with his hair neatly trimmed and his boots tied with double knots. After all, you couldn't exactly stop in gunfire to tie your shoelaces.

Ten years ago, he'd been offered a full scholarship to West Point. He'd trained for four years and then served his time, but found a new love for battle and strategy – anticipating the enemy and placing troops in key locations in order to defeat the opposing side; it thrilled him.

Maybe it was because, for once, he wasn't the one getting picked on.

He'd served seven more years and advanced through the ranks, appearing in multiple government meetings and court decisions. He became well known in the United States and made powerful friends...

But with powerful friends come dangerous enemies.

He'd already had several attempts on his life, but he had managed to survive this far. Recently, he'd had a really close call. An unidentified individual had shot at him twice at a national meeting. One bullet had missed him (barely), but the other had buried itself in his leg, just below the hip. He'd been in the hospital for a few months before he was released with a slight limp. He was taken out of the field and transferred over to a classified project that the government had been toying around with while he'd been in physical therapy. It was something like the CIA, only more undercover and secretive. Not to mention more dangerous, and he'd been promoted to the CEO of the project.

The actual launch of the organization would be after the summer had ended, so he took a few weeks off to visit his brothers.

He turned down Oak Drive and started looking around. Nothing had really changed. A fresh coat of paint here, a new door there, but no new developments. The vacant lot had yellow tape around it, and the man made out a sign with the words: Limestone Real Estate. Looked like the vacant lot wouldn't be empty for long.

He continued to look around, remembering all that had happened here. It seemed like a century ago, he was being jumped by Socs and chased by Mustangs.

Finally, he came into sight of a small, modest mint green house with brown trim. He smiled and parallel parked along the sidewalk, making sure to close the roof and hide his badges in the glove compartment.

Straightening his uniform, he pushed open the chain link fence and walked up the path to the door. He gently knocked, and after a minute, he opened the unlocked door.

The house was quiet. No one home? Everyone was probably at work – after all, it was only one o'clock. His stomach growled. He absentmindedly realized that he hadn't had lunch yet. That was probably a bad move.

Knowing that he was supposed to be laying low for a few days, he walked over to his old bedroom. He changed out of his uniform and into a pair of Sodapop's pants and a (hopefully) clean white shirt. He threw on his old hoodie and was surprised (and a little disgruntled) to find that it still fit him. Then again, the hoodie had been big on him in high school. He prayed that Sodapop wouldn't be too angry with him.

After he'd changed, he gathered his uniform and walked back out to his Jeep, putting it on the floor in the backseat. He locked the car, pulled the hoodie over his head, and started in the direction of the town.

He hadn't been walking long when he heard the rumbling of an engine. He rolled his eyes and kept walking. Probably some Socs waiting to jump some Greaser. Unfortunately for the man, the Socs had their eyes on _him._

"Hey Greaser!" one of them called. It occurred to the man that his hoodie and jeans could've made him look like a teen. He groaned. Maybe he was doing his job of "laying low" a little _too_ well.

"You got somewhere to be or something?" another demanded. He heard the car stop and doors slamming. Knowing that he could not avoid conflict, he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked down at his feet in order to hide as much of his face as possible.

He waited as the footsteps grew louder. They circled around him, but he still didn't move. One, presumably the leader, stepped forward slightly. "You look like you're sweating under that hoodie, Greaser," he taunted. "Allow us to make you feel more comfortable."

A hand grabbed his hoodie, and the man whipped into action. He grabbed the teen's wrist and turned, throwing the boy into the leader, but he didn't just stop there. He instantly sent his left fist flying into the jaw of a Soc to his right, making him stumble backwards. The man wasted no time in sucker punching the boy to his left and kicking the one next to him in the gut. The leader of the gang stood back up, but the man had frozen in place again. He hesitated for a moment and the man drew his army knife. The Soc looked at it in wide-eyed fear before running back to the car and jumping into the driver's seat. The other Socs followed suit, barely making it to the car before the driver drove off towards the South part of town.

The man smiled. Some things never changed.

He continued to walk until he reached the DX, deciding that a quick stop couldn't hurt.

He pushed open the door and walked in. The first thing he noticed were the shelves. They'd moved and were completely restocked with new brands, but he still saw some old favorites hidden among the new.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked. The man looked up and saw a dark haired man slightly older than him behind the counter. His hands were stained with oil and hair grease slicked through his hair, and the oil grease made his hair look darker than it really was. He wore a tight white shirt that showed off his muscles and jeans, but his clothing did not escape the oil stains.

"Yeah," the man said, approaching the counter, grabbing a Pepsi as he came near. "Just this." The man saw the employee's nametag: Steve. The man nearly burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Steve demanded.

"Nothing," the man said, quickly hiding all traces of emotion.

Steve frowned. "You look familiar. You been on TV or somethin'?"

"No," the man answered shortly.

"Yeah, I recognize ya!" Steve stated. "You're Peter Boyce, the guy who's in charge of the army or somethin'."

Peter laughed out loud. "First of all, there's no one in charge of the army – just generals. Secondly, who am I?"

"I told you," Steve said, vexed. "Peter Boyce. You're the guy who killed my friend."

Peter stumbled backwards, taken aback by that statement. "What? Excuse me?"

"There was a kid," Steve started, "he and I didn't get along too well, but he meant the world to my best friend. You was the one that sent him to his death a few years ago."

"You've gotta be kidding me-" Peter stopped short when he realized that he'd sent a killed-in-action notice back to the Curtis brothers. He'd done it for their protection and for his country... He hadn't considered this situation as a side effect. "Wait, Ponyboy?"

Steve froze. "You knew him?"

"Uh, yes," Peter stuttered. "He was one of the worst soldiers and students in the academy. A total disgrace." He hated doing this to a friend, but it was for his own safety. If Ponyboy Curtis suddenly came back from the dead, then his brothers, his friends...everyone could be in danger. It would be best to reveal who he was to his brothers only – and in _private_.

A man with gold hair and tan skin poked his head in through a back door. "Steve. There's a car back here with a broken tailpipe and a whole bunch of other stuff you should look at."

"Sure thing," Steve told him. "You might wanna have a word with this guy." Steve glared at Peter before leaving through the door that the newcomer was looking through.

"Peter Boyce," he said, extending his hand for a handshake. "Nice to meet you..." He looked at the man's nametag and bit his tongue. "Sodapop?"

"Yep," he said. "So, you have something to say to me or something?"

"Your friend seems to think so," Peter shrugged, looking out the window to where Steve was talking to a customer.

Sodapop sighed. "Well, if you ain't got nothin' to say, I gotta get to work." He exited via the way he entered and walked over to Steve. Peter remembered the can of soda in his hand and huffed.

Quietly and quickly, he went around the counter, slid money into the cash register, and walked out of the store. Before he left, he walked over to Sodapop. "I have a question for you."

"Ask it," he said, turning to him. Peter idly noticed that he was taller than Sodapop.

"Do you happen to know where Darrel Curtis and Keith Mathews work and what time you all get off?"

Sodapop gave him a strange look. "Darry still works at the local roofing company. Still's the only one in town. Keith works at the superstore down the road. We all get out 'round four. You gonna buy us drinks 'r somethin'?"

"Something like that," Peter said briefly before leaving the DX. "I'm sorry about your younger brother," he called over his shoulder. "He got what he deserved." He grinned at his word play, but hid the expression from Sodapop.

"What?" Sodapop stood shocked, watching the man leave, but he was already long gone. Abruptly, Sodapop realized that Peter was wearing his shirt and jeans and Ponyboy's old hoodie. He blinked and shook his head. He guessed he'd figure this whole thing out sooner or later – after his shift, that is.

About ten minutes later, Peter Boyce entered the local superstore. Everything was the same...except some of the goods on the store shelves. It seemed deserted (as per usual).

A sound of a cartoon car-crash was followed by a chuckle from the checkout counter nearby. Peter turned to see a man slightly bent over the counter, watching a television screen with a grin on his face. The man noticed Peter and he straightened, revealing his name tag, which was taped over with masking tape and written on. In blurred sharpie, Peter could barely make out the words "Two-Bit" on his nametag.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Uh...yeah," Peter started, remembering himself. "Just...one second." Peter disappeared down an aisle and returned later with a wrapped sandwich. He placed it on the counter and stared at Two-Bit as he rang up the item. After a few seconds, Two-Bit glanced up at Peter without moving his head.

"You got a problem, mister?" he asked.

Peter hurriedly shook his head. "Nothing, I was just admiring your intriguing nametag."

Two-Bit grinned. "What can I say? I'm one of a kind." He set the sandwich down on the surface between them. "$3.47 please."

Peter pulled the money out of his pocket and gave it to Two-Bit, who returned his change within a few seconds. The man from out of town took it along with the sandwich. He paused, looking at Two-Bit for another second before hurriedly exiting the superstore.

Once he was out, he felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. He hadn't realized that this little trip down memory-lane would affect him like...however he was feeling.

He decided that the thing he needed to do was talk to Darry. That would help...maybe. If talking to Sodapop hadn't helped ease him, why would talking to Darry be any different, if not worse?

He shrugged to himself. He would need to see his older brother eventually. And with that, he set off in the direction of the local roofing company.

 **Holy cow that took FOREVER to write. It felt like I was riding with a first-time driver. Go-STOP! ...ggoooo-STOP!**

 **Oi.**

 **Anyway, if you guys want me to do a "part two" of this little idea, just go ahead and tell me so. I don't know if I will or not – life is getting pretty crazy, tbh, and I'm starting to post my art on Tumblr (link in my profile, if you're interested).**

 **So yeah! Hopefully I'll be able to finish up some ongoing stories and stuff (I've moved to so many new fandoms it's crazy), but I don't know where I'm going with my fanfic stuff, so I'll be updating on that status.**


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